Tributes to the Speaker

Debate between Rosie Duffield and John Bercow

Thursday 31st October 2019 Commons Chamber

[Rosie Duffield (Canterbury) (Lab)]

First, I need to say that I will not be here for the tributes to the chaplain, but the House’s loss is Canterbury’s gain, and I am thrilled that I will get to see much more of Rose Hudson-Wilkin in my constituency; that is brilliant.

Mr Speaker, it is so difficult to put into words what seeing you in the Chair means to people like me on the Back Benches. Some of the speeches today have been incredibly moving. I need to find a new word for kindness, because when we look at today’s Hansard, that is the word that will come up the most.

I do not know how to express my gratitude for how immensely patient and lovely you have been; I do not want to get too emotional. My father has Alzheimer’s, and his recent memories are not that great, but he will never forget and never stops talking about the day that I was sworn in and how kind you were to my very ordinary family, who had never set foot in a place like this. You made an effort to wave to them and mention them, and my dad was talking about it even yesterday, when we were at a family funeral. It meant a great deal to him and my family, and that is something I will never forget.

When those of us here—especially women and Back Benchers—who are pretty terrified of this experience get up and talk about things that are personal and make us vulnerable, we can stand here and look at you, and you are a bit like a lighthouse in a stormy sea. During the speech that I made recently, when I felt very vulnerable, you kept me going. I just kept concentrating on you, and I knew that you were there, emotionally holding my hand; you have done that physically as well, which is lovely. I do not know how to thank you enough, but I am trying to say thank you. I will never, ever forget your kindness. Thank you very much.

[Mr Speaker]

The hon. Lady does not have to thank me at all. It has been a great privilege, as in respect of every other colleague, but I hugely appreciate what she said, which was said with evident and palpable sincerity.

Preparations for Leaving the EU

Debate between Rosie Duffield and John Bercow

Tuesday 8th October 2019 Commons Chamber

[Mr Speaker]

Order. I remind the House that only last week the hon. Member for Canterbury (Rosie Duffield) made a speech that brought hope and will have changed, and will change, lives. Colleagues, if you did not hear it, you missed something.

[Rosie Duffield (Canterbury) (Lab)]

Thank you, Mr Speaker. In the light of recent fake news from the Prime Minister about a shiny new hospital in Canterbury, which currently has no A&E or urgent treatment centres, can the Minister please guarantee that, with the possible chaos resulting from Operation Brock, my constituents will still be able to get to the William Harvey Hospital in Ashford for the urgent care that they desperately need?

Domestic Abuse Bill

Debate between Rosie Duffield and John Bercow

Wednesday 2nd October 2019 Commons Chamber

[Rosie Duffield (Canterbury) (Lab)]

So what is domestic violence or abuse, and where do we get our ideas about it from? Often we see the same images and stereotypes on TV: housing estates, working-class families, drunk men coming home from the pub, women surrounded by children, and a sequence of shouting, followed by immediate physical violence or assault. But soap opera scenes tend to focus on only one or two aspects of a much bigger and more complex picture.

Domestic violence has many faces, and the faces of those who survive it are varied, too. There are 650 MPs in this place—650 human beings. Statistically, it is highly likely that some of us here will have directly experienced an abusive relationship, and we are just as likely as anyone else to have grown up in a violent household.

Abuse is not just about noticeable physical signs. Sometimes there are no bruises. Abuse is very often all about control and power; it is about abusers making themselves feel big, or biggest, but that is not how they present themselves. It is not how they win your heart. It is not how they persuade you to meet them for a coffee, then go to a gig, and then spend an evening snuggled up in front of a movie at their place. When they ask you out, they do not present their rage, and do not tell you that while they like the idea of strong, independent, successful women, they do not like the reality. They do not threaten, criticise, control, yell, or exert their physical strength in an increasingly frightening way—not yet. Not at the start. Not when they think you are sweet, funny and gorgeous. Not when they want to impress you. Not when they turn up to only your third date with chocolate, and then jewellery. Not when they meet your friends, your parents, or the leader of your political party. They do not do any of that then.

It is only later, when the door to your home is locked, that you really start to learn what power and control look and feel like. That is when you learn that “I’ll always look after you,” “I’ll never let you go,” and “You’re mine for life” can sound menacing, and are used as a warning over and over again. It is when the ring is on your finger that the mask can start to slip, and the promises sound increasingly like threats. It is then that you spend 12 or more hours at work longing to see the person you love, only to find that on the walk or tube journey home they refuse to speak a single, solitary word to you. Eventually, at home, they will find a way to let you know which particular sin you have apparently committed: your dress was too short, the top you wore in the Chamber was too low-cut, or you did not respond to a message immediately.

It starts slowly: a few emotional knocks, alternated with romantic gushes and promises of everlasting love, which leave you reeling, confused, spinning around in an ever-changing but always hyper-alert state, not knowing what mood or message awaits you. You tell yourself to be less sensitive, less emotional, to stop over-analysing every little thing. Ignore the moods—he never stops saying he adores you, right? All seems good again.

A whole week goes by: a week of summer evening walks home and maybe a drink on the way. A long weekend is booked and organised as a surprise while you are at work. The journey there is full of promise and promises—time away alone together in a place away from stress—but then it starts. In a strange city, his face changes in a way you are starting to know and dread, in a way that says you need to stay calm, silent and very careful. He goes for a walk. You sit in your hotel room and wait. You read a city guide and plan which sights you want to visit, mentally packing a day full of fun. But he seems to have another agenda. He doesn’t want you to leave the room. He has paid a lot of money and you need to pay him your full attention. You are expected to do as you are told, and you know for certain what that means—so you do exactly as you are told.

In the months that follow, those patterns continue: reward, punishment, promises of happily ever after alternated with abject rage, menace, silent treatment and coercive control; financial abuse and control; a point-blank refusal to disclose his salary or earnings, an assumption and insistence on it being okay to live in your home without contributing a single penny, as bills continue to pile up; a refusal to work, as your salary is great and public knowledge; false promises to start paying some specific bills, which you discover months later remain unpaid; and the slow but sure disappearance of any kindness, respect or loving behaviour.

You get to the stage where you are afraid to go home. After 15 hours at work, you spend another hour on the phone to your mum or a close friend, trembling, a shadow of your usual self. You answer the phone, and the sheer nastiness and rage tell you not to go home at all. So you leave work with your best friend, exhausted and shaking, and buy a toothbrush on the way, knowing that the verbal abuse followed by silent refusal to speak at all will be 100 times worse tomorrow.

Every day is emotionally exhausting. You are working in a job you love but putting on a brave face and pretending all is good, fine—wonderful, in fact. Then the pretence and the public face start to drop completely: being yelled at in the car with the windows down, no attempt to hide behaviour during constituency engagements —humiliation and embarrassment now added to permanent trepidation and constant hurt and pain. It is impossible to comprehend that this is the person who tells his family how much he loves you and longs to make you his wife.

But the mask has slipped for good, and questions are starting. Excuses are given to worried friends, concerned family and colleagues who have started to notice. One night, after more crying and being constantly verbally abused because you suggest he pay a bit towards your new sofa, you realise you’ve reached the end and you simply cannot endure this for another day or week, and certainly not for the rest of your life. Having listened intently for two whole weeks to the sound of his morning shower, timing the routine until you know it off by heart, you summon up the courage to take his front-door keys from his bag.

You have tried everything else on earth and know for certain, 100%, what awaits you that night if you do not act today. Heart banging, you hide them carefully and creep back into bed, praying he won’t discover what you have done. You know for certain what will happen if he does. You know an apology will not follow. You know for sure it will be because of what you have done and that it is all your fault. He leaves for the gym, telling you how much he adores you. He tells you to remember that you will always be his. He kisses you lovingly, as though there has not been months of verbal abuse, threats and incidents he knows you will never disclose. He tells you he will bring something nice home for dinner.

Sure enough, the next few days and weeks are a total hell—texts and calls and yelling: “You’ve locked me out like a dog”, “No one treats me that way”, “This is the last thing you will ever do”. You cry, you grieve for your destroyed dreams, you try to heal, you ignore the emails from wedding companies, but it is like withdrawal, and it takes six months.

But one day you notice that you’re smiling, that it’s okay to laugh, and that it’s been a week or two since the daily sobbing stopped. You realise you are allowed to be happy. You dare to relax and you dare to start to feel free. You realise it is not your fault and that he is now left alone with his rage and narcissism. You dare to start dating someone, and you realise that you have survived, but the brightest and most precious thing of all is realising that you are loved and believed by friends, family and colleagues who believe in you and support you.

So if anyone is watching and needs a friend, please reach out, if it is safe to do so, and please talk to any of us, because we will be there and we will hold your hand. [Applause.]

[Mr Speaker]

I thank the hon. Lady for that speech, which was simultaneously as horrifying and as moving a contribution in the Chamber as I have heard in my 22 years of membership of the House. Thank you.

Oral Answers to Questions

Debate between Rosie Duffield and John Bercow

Monday 15th January 2018 Commons Chamber

[Mr Speaker]

I should just say that the right hon. Gentleman is a respected Minister. On a very serious note, and in recognition of the fact that I will have the whole House with me, we discovered not that long ago that the right hon. Gentleman is also a very brave man.

[Rosie Duffield]

As the Minister will know, arbitrary and unjust transitions in pension status can have dire consequences for those who depend on them, and it is particularly shameful when those affected are the families of those who were prepared to make the ultimate sacrifice for our country. Members of my own family have been affected, so will the Minister please meet me directly to discuss this issue?

Oral Answers to Questions

Debate between Rosie Duffield and John Bercow

Thursday 23rd November 2017 Commons Chamber

[Mr Speaker]

What a busy fellow he is.

[Rosie Duffield (Canterbury) (Lab)]

11. Economic partnership agreements have faced intense criticism both from the very countries that they are intended to help and from experts and academics across Europe. Will the Minister consider introducing a sunset clause into the rolled-over EPAs so that new and better agreements can eventually be negotiated?

European Union (Withdrawal) Bill

Debate between Rosie Duffield and John Bercow

Thursday 7th September 2017 Commons Chamber

[Rosie Duffield (Canterbury) (Lab)]

It is a great privilege to make my maiden speech as part of this special and important debate. Many people—especially me—were completely stunned on the morning of 9 June to wake up and find that a new red dot had appeared on the previously entirely blue political map of Kent. I am still recovering from the shock, but am also determined to bring as much positive difference as I possibly can during my time in this place.

Before I speak a little more about my constituency, I want to mention the so-called “trolling” of my, mostly female, colleagues over the summer. I have already experienced a fair amount of trolling myself. This ranges from ill-informed, badly researched articles published as fact to unpleasant personal messages late at night, and vile, vitriolic insults from a small, but persistent, handful of activists from other parties posted online.

I acknowledge the efforts being made by the inspirational women in Parliament who are working hard to raise this issue and are fighting against it even though that usually results in much more abuse being thrown their way. I want to make special mention of my friend, the Newham councillor Seyi Akiwowo, who has endured, fought back against and now campaigns against the lowest form of racial abuse; and, of course, Labour’s shadow Home Secretary, who has shown incredible dignity and remarkable strength in the face of the most unacceptable and disgusting abuse over her decades in this House.

Groups such as Glitch UK and Reclaim the Internet, led by my colleague my right hon. Friend the Member for Normanton, Pontefract and Castleford (Yvette Cooper) and many of my other friends and colleagues in this House, are deserving of our support. We must continue to fight against this and highlight the problem; it is entirely possible to engage in passionate political debate without resorting to name-calling, death threats and abusive language. Let us restore respect and manners to our online behaviour.

As the first woman ever to have been elected in Canterbury and as a single mother, I want to be a champion for equality not only for women, but for the disabled, people of every ethnic and racial background, the young and the old, the LGBT community and people of all faiths and none. It is a scandal that in this day and age there is still inequality in pay and discrimination in many forms. All such prejudice has no place in our society; I will challenge and fight it wherever I find it.

My constituency, Canterbury, is famous as a place of pilgrimage. It is also known as part of the garden of England. Today, as we sit here in the Palace of Westminster, the farms surrounding my constituency are filled with apples, hops and plum trees. In some ways, nothing has changed since Chaucer and his pilgrims went walking through those same fields, but in many ways, everything has. In those fields today, many of the fruit pickers are European. Every day, in the streets of my city and the nearby seaside town of Whitstable, we hear European languages being spoken by schoolchildren visiting from France, Spain, Germany and Belgium.

At the top of the hill that overlooks Canterbury city lies the University of Kent, which prides itself on being the UK’s European university, and standing outside the nave doors of Canterbury cathedral, you are closer to Paris than you are to Sheffield. This is just my way of emphasising how much the Canterbury constituency has benefited, and continues to benefit, from economic and cultural exchange with our European neighbours. It is undoubtedly true that the Kent economy has benefited from immigration and tourism from across the channel, and we hope to continue to do so well into the future.

If there must be a Brexit, I want only the sort of Brexit that protects the rights of EU nationals to work in the UK, that promotes trade across borders and that is proud of our many students and academics who come here to study from across the world. For example, we want to continue to welcome the foreign doctors, nurses and other healthcare professionals who have worked in our hospitals. There is real anxiety in the constituency I now represent about the future of our local NHS and, in particular, the Kent and Canterbury Hospital. Over the past decade, it has lost vital services. We now have absolutely no A&E, and the maternity unit, which gave me such wonderful care when I had my two boys, has gone. Only a few months ago, the K and C lost three major services—those covering heart attacks, stroke and pneumonia.

But let us remember that the threat to our hospital is not happening in isolation. The problems facing our NHS arise from Government policies affecting the whole of England. The first of these is budget cuts. Our local hospital trust does not have a deficit of £40 million because of overspending; it is caused by underfunding. Putting the shackles of austerity on to an already weakened NHS is a deliberate political choice made by this Government.

I must speak up to save our nation’s sickest patient, because that is what the NHS is. Our NHS is the nation’s sickest patient, and the Government must be careful that, while burying their heads in Brexit, they do not leave her to die. Yesterday, I was out in Parliament Square supporting NHS staff and other public sector workers who are having to resort to protest in the face of the ongoing pay cap. Some nurses I speak to regularly are having to rely on food banks. What sort of country is this, when we cannot look after the very people who look after us?

In around 1370, long before he wrote “The Canterbury Tales”, Geoffrey Chaucer was sent to Italy by the King to negotiate a trade agreement between Genoa and England. Historical documents show that it was a very successful trade agreement indeed. I can only wish that our current Brexit negotiations with the EU will be as successful. You would think that after nearly 650 years, we would have picked up a tip or two! I hope the current Government are listening to the whispers of history, and indeed to today’s shouts from up and down the United Kingdom. People want a good deal. They do not want no deal; this is not a television game show with a snappy title. We must come out with a deal that does not send us back into the economic dark ages.

As is the tradition in maiden speeches, I would like to thank my predecessor, Sir Julian Brazier, who served the people of Canterbury well as their Member of Parliament for 30 years—some 10,955 days. I am sure that Members on both sides of the House will acknowledge what a remarkable act of dedication and service that was. He and I fundamentally disagreed on many issues, such as equal marriage, Brexit and a woman’s right to choose, but I sincerely wish Sir Julian well for the future.

I love Canterbury. I love her surrounding villages such as Littlebourne, Chartham, Blean and Bridge. I love the working harbour of Whitstable and the pebbles of the surrounding Kent coast. I am humbled by the people of my constituency putting their trust in me, and I want to work hard for all the people in my area. I believe in unity and togetherness, and that love and trust can transcend borders. I believe in progressive and thoughtful socialism in which we work for and think of our neighbours without prejudice. Thank you for listening, Mr. Speaker, and for allowing me to have my first moments fighting for the people who elected me. I will not let them down.

[Mr Speaker]

Thank you; many congratulations to the hon. Lady. The five-minute time limit is now restored.